A Perfect Bedtime Story
by VeIaRrGtOh
Summary: Great stories are passed down through generations - this is the story of Evren, a dryad with a special gift. As Narnia faces danger from an unexpected foe, what mark will she leave forever on her home, and on the Pevensies themselves? PostLWW, PeterOC
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to the story! Hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/places/things in this story._

_A/N: This tale is set post-The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

* * *

"Time for bed!" the old woman proclaimed. She turned away from her oven, wiping her tiny, wrinkled hands on her apron. Her two young grandchildren, who had been lying on her sofa, rubbing their full stomachs just moments before, jumped up with protests.

"Oh, no, Grammy, we're not quite tired yet!" The little boy cried. He could not have been older than seven – his blue eyes, half hidden by a mop of curly brown hair, still held the wide, innocent look of a child. His twin sister added, "Tell us a story instead, Gram!" Her eyes and hair were the same as her brother's save for the fact that her hair was tied back neatly in a braid.

"A story?" Gram smiled at the youngsters' shining, rosy faces. One could not refuse the pure sweetness that radiated from her two grandchildren. "Well… I suppose." The twins cheered, great grins spreading across their round cheeks. "But go get ready, and hop into bed first!"

Moments later it seemed, the two were dressed in their nightclothes and under the covers. They laid on their stomachs, and propped themselves up on their elbows to face their grandmother, who sat on the rocking chair by the side of the bed, folding her soft, wrinkled hands across her stomach.

"Now," she began. "What type of story are we going to hear tonight?"

"A love story," sighed the girl, her eyes dancing.

"No!" her brother cried out, morally offended. "Something with swords and shields and a battle!"

A fight would have ensued had the old woman not thought of the perfect bedtime story. "I know!" she said. "How about a story of the Golden Age of Narnia, and how High King Peter met his wife, the Queen Evren? And," she added hastily at the look of contempt on her grandson's face, "and the marvelous battle they fought together against the evil Zulum?"

The two children looked at each other, shrugged, and nodded eagerly at their grandmother.

"Alright then," their grandmother chuckled. She began in her quiet, shaky, beautiful voice, as her grandchildren listened, already enraptured. "It was quite a long time ago, the Golden Age of Narnia. You were not born yet, nor was I, nor even my grandmother. But the stories of the Pevensies and those in their court have been passed down through the generations.

"Well, our story begins after the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve had defeated the White Witch, which is another story for another time! The four sovereigns, with the help of the Great Lion, Aslan, had restored our beloved Narnia to its beautiful self once again. But times immediately following the Witch's reign were not always as wonderful as they are portrayed. Narnians everywhere were still shaken from the Witch's cruelty, and any sign of magic, anywhere, greatly frightened them…"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

A/N: This tale is set post-_the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

--

Narnia truly looked its most beautiful in the summer. Of course, that was a matter of opinion, but Evren, the dryad of a quaint Privet tree, always felt the most at peace during Narnia's summer. Actually, the more she thought about it, she realized she had never truly experienced a _Narnian_ summer. She had spent the previous two years of her life in Archenland, south of Narnia, studying the earth, its ecology, and how to tap into its powerful resources. She had stayed in Archenland, even though Narnia was her homeland. She had stayed in Archenland, because Narnia was not safe. She had stayed in Archenland because if the White Witch, who had ruled over Narnia with an icy fist, had heard of what Evren was doing, she would have been killed.

As the carriage she was riding in trundled through the summer heat, Evren leaned her head against the window, looking out at Narnia's beauty. She had never been able to see it in this way before, without any snow or ice – now the lush grass waved even with the slightest breeze; the trees, full of life now, cast their cooling shade.

Evren had always wished to see Narnia like this. And now that she finally could, it seemed the cruelest form of irony that she was a prisoner while experiencing it.

Evren took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. She could hardly believe that she was being transported through Narnia by royal carriage, although the circumstances were hardly something to rejoice over. She was a prisoner, accused of crimes that she did not commit, and a victim of fear and racism. She was on her way to the South Bridge, where the Royal Envoy from Cair Paravel would meet with hers, and she would then be taken to the royal capital itself, where she would be put on trial.

Evren was baffled by the whole state of affairs, but she kept her peace – as a dryad, a being highly connected with the earth, her years of meditation and study of the earth's peace had taught her to control herself at all times, and being arrested was no exception.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Evren looked out the window, this time not at Narnia's beauty, but trying to make out their new surroundings. She saw a rushing river, a tiny bridge, and a house right next to the bridge. She could see the royal escort up ahead. Though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, knots of fear began to form in Evren's stomach. She had been practicing magic, after all, and she should have known that Narnia would have been wary of any kind of magic at all at this point in time – so soon after the reign of a tyrannical witch. But Evren had nothing but honest and good intentions – hopefully the new monarchs at Cair Paravel would be able to see that.

_Dear Aslan_, Evren prayed silently as the carriage door was opened for her, _please watch over and guide me…_

She stepped from the carriage into the bright summer sunlight. It was late morning, and even as Evren stood, two guards – satyrs, in fact – flanking her sides, she could tell the hottest part of the day was almost upon them. She breathed deeply – she could almost taste the coming heat.

She looked around. Guards and officials from the royal envoy were beginning to approach. The two guards on either side of her looked too nervous to come near her, but at a swift, hard look from the coachman, a dwarf, they stood at attention. The dwarf jumped down from his seat and also faced the envoy.

It was two centaurs and a faun that approached. They all stared at Evren, not without a trace of fear flashing in all their eyes. But Evren simply looked back at them, keeping her gaze steady and innocent. One of the centaurs, who had long black hair and a stern face, stepped forward and spoke. "This is the prisoner – the witch?" (As if that had not been made quite obvious enough, Evren thought, smiling slightly.)

"Yes, General Oreius, this is she." the dwarf spoke, his long, auburn beard twitching as he spoke. He had to crane his neck back quite a bit to be able to look up into the great centaur's face. "I know she will get to the Cair safely in your hands."

"Very much obliged." the centaur nodded his thanks. "Bring her this way – Her Majesty would like to meet with her."

"Are you sure that is wise-" the dwarf began, but was cut off by the centaur, General Oreius.

"It is what the Queen wishes," he said, a slight tone of exasperation in his voice. "She insists that she know who it is that's causing all the fuss and fear."

Evren, upon overcoming her annoyance at being spoken of as if she weren't there, quickly grew frightened. A queen – one of the monarchs? No one had told her that she was going to have to explain herself to a queen before even reaching the capital! She felt the earth beneath her feet trembling along with her as she was led over to another carriage – it was much larger and nicer than the one she had just been riding in, with intricate gold designs along its plush blue siding, and four horses to guide it. The faun walked up to the door of the carriage and rapped politely on it.

"Your majesty, the prisoner is here!" he called. There was no answer. He knocked again. "Your majesty?"

"Here! Sorry-" a voice called, and Evren, despite her fear, felt her spirit rise a little at the kindness in the voice. The group, prisoner and captors all, turned to see the owner of the voice, a beautiful young woman, walking quickly back towards them. "I'm terribly sorry, just thought I ought to introduce myself to the bridge worker and his family. They were awfully kind, you know, I couldn't tear myself away." She stopped upon seeing Evren. The two teenage girls looked at each other. They could not have been more than a year different in age. Evren felt ugly and plain next to this girl, who had full, rosy lips and stunning brown eyes. Perched on her long dark hair was a golden crown, and it glinted in the sunlight. The aura around the girl radiated of kindness and loveliness and understanding. In turn, the girl looked at Evren, and, as she always could, was able to tell that this prisoner standing before her was not a danger in any way. In fact, the young queen thought Evren was beautiful, and almost fantasy-like, with her wavy brown hair, bright green eyes and sun-touched skin.

"You must be Evren." The young woman said. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Susan."


	3. Chapter 3

The posting of this chapter is in memory of a very special lady who will be much missed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The faun coughed. Susan glanced at him quickly, and then back at Evren. "I mean," she began, somewhat flustered, "that I am Susan, Queen of Narnia, sister to High King Peter, and Loyal Servant of the Lion…" he she seemed to falter. "And so on, and... something along those lines." She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm supposed to be learning how to do all that – introduce myself as a queen and such. How was it?" she asked the faun.

"Very good, Your Majesty, quite an improvement from yesterday." the faun said, somewhat stiffly. Queen Susan winced.

"Ah, yes. _That_. Well, let us not recall such times," she tried to say with dignity. Evren could not help but smile. There was a bit of a pause; then Susan, sensing the awkward silence, jumped in, saying, "Well, I guess we should get on, then."

"Your majesty," the centaur who had not spoken yet moved forward and offered Susan his hand, helping her clamber into the carriage. He then turned his huge, hairy face to Evren, beckoning her forward as well. She put her trembling hand in his and stepped into the coolness of the carriage. The centaur shut the door behind her.

Evren stayed standing, not entirely sure of what to do. She glanced back out the window of the carriage as it began moving forward, and took one final glimpse of her former envoy as it faded into the distance. Evren swayed as the carriage began mounting the bridge.

"Please, sit down." Queen Susan gestured sweetly to the seat opposite herself. Evren shakily sat, trying not to look the young Queen in the eyes. Susan didn't seem disturbed in the least.

"Now that it's finally just the two of us," she said, sitting back in her seat, "we can have an actual conversation." She smiled kindly at Evren, and Evren, in spite of herself, could not help but smile back. She could not understand the queen's amazing ability to set anyone she was with at complete and utter ease.

"So," Susan began. "I'm to understand it that you are Evren, a tree dryad, if I'm correct?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Evren's voice sounded raw and husky after keeping silent for so long, and she had to swallow to regain it's proper sound. Susan looked as if she would be perfectly delighted to hear her go on, so she continued speaking. "I'm from the Southern Forrest, there are all sorts of trees there… I'm the spirit of a privet tree there, towards the center of the forest." She rushed on, feeling now as if she couldn't quite stop. "My tree is rather large – well, a comfortable size, really. In late summer it blooms – really pretty white flowers-" She stopped herself – what was she doing, babbling about her tree in front of the Queen of Narnia? She should be begging for her innocence, explaining away everything she had been charged with.

But Susan simply grinned and sighed contentedly. "Oh, that must be perfectly lovely." she said. "You must show it to me someday, I would love to see it."

Evren was surprised. "Of – of, course, Your Majesty."

"You must excuse my ignorance," Susan explained, seeing the look of surprise on Evren's face. "My brothers and sister and I have not been in Narnia for very long, so we are still learning of the customs and such around here. Why, where we come from," she laughed gaily, "Beasts do not speak, tree spirits cannot move, and 'magic' is thought of as the stuff of fairytales."

Evren was now really confused. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I have been out of Narnia myself for a long while now, and I can't say I really know what has happened since Your Majesty and Your Majesty's siblings have come to Narnia!"

Susan smiled again, and her smile seemed to compete with the sun in radiance. "Forgive me – of course you could not know, having lived in Archenland the last few years, and the White Witch stopping all forms of communication with anyone outside of Narnia." She stopped, mused for a moment, then said, "Well, I suppose all that really happened is that my siblings and I entered Narnia from our world by accident, really, and then we got swept up in all this madness." She shrugged. "Aslan needed us to fight the White Witch, and we did, and with His help, she's now gone. And now here we are, ruling a kingdom! It's quite scary at times, how quickly everything happened, and everything is overwhelming…" Evren could sense that the Queen was being modest about her adventures. "But it really has been the most wonderful of times, as well." Susan smiled wistfully.

"I feel like I've missed everything," Evren said, with a trace of mourning in her voice. "I had left Narnia, originally, so that I could go to Archenland and learn things that might help overthrow the Witch. And then it happens while I'm gone!"

Susan chuckled. "We would have been glad to have your help!" Her smile faltered just the tiniest bit. "But that brings us around, then" she said, more serious now, "to what happened when you came back. I understand that you were arrested under suspicion of witchcraft. What can you tell me about this?" Susan looked at Evren, and Evren could tell that this girl would accept her explanation, whether she was guilty or not.

"Your Majesty," Evren began, the slightest bit of desperation in her voice, "My powers – my magic – well, I had planned to use it with the purest of intentions. My only goal was to become more connected with the earth, and to somehow use that power to help in the resistance to the White Witch. I was hoping to help Narnia." She swallowed. "Narnia is my homeland; I would never hurt it or those who live here."

Susan did not seem to be convinced of Evren's innocence or guilt. She merely looked interested, and somewhat confused, when she asked, "Your power – with the earth… do all earth spirits have this power?"

"Well… no, Your Majesty." Evren answered. "You see, hundreds of years ago, before I was born or even the Witch had taken over Narnia, Aslan made a promise concerning the dryads of the Southern Forest. He said that one day, a dryad would be created that could be the medium, the very balance, or middle, between the earth and the Forrest. And that dryad would have power from the earth and everything that came from it." Evren could feel herself turning red. She was not a boastful person, but she was not overly modest either – she just disliked telling the prophecy about her birth, one that made her look to have some sort of great destiny. Blushing, she continued, "…And it's supposed to be me. I am the dryad that has the special connection with the earth.

"I was born sixteen years ago, during the Hundred Years' Winter. My people thought my powers could be put to use – to defeat the White Witch. So that, Your Majesty, is why I was in Archenland. I was developing my powers, and deepening my connection with the earth." Evren's tone was close to hysterics now. She willed Susan to understand; to believe her. "I understand that Narnia may fear magic after the reign of tyranny they have just experienced, but I swear to you, that I intend no harm." Suddenly, the fear that Evren had kept at bay for the past few days seemed to bubble up. It nearly escaped her – she seemed to regain control of herself at the last second.

Perhaps Susan had seen these emotions in her face, because at once the young queen got up from her seat and sat down instead next to Evren, putting her arm around her. Evren was so surprised that she could not think of anything to say; instead, she looked down at her lap, feeling astounded that someone so _good_ was sitting next to her, hugging her. Susan simply smiled at her and gave her a squeeze.

"You have nothing to fear. If this is indeed your true story, than I see no reason why you should be accused in any way. I will personally vouch for you when we get to Cair Paravel, and no matter how frightened and sensitive some people of Narnia may be, I will make sure they know what a good person you really are."

Evren looked up to thank her, but the words could not come from her mouth. This queen, a stranger who had not known her only ten minutes before, was sitting there comforting her, and vowing to stand by her. Evren realized that Narnia had been so long under the control of the White Witch's harsh laws and mercilessness, its inhabitants were surely to be shocked at this queen's kindness. And if her siblings were anything like her – Narnia was sure to experience an emotional renaissance.

In the end, Evren's reply was simple. "Thank you," she murmured. She knew it could not sound like very much, but she hoped that the queen understood how much she had done for her – how much she had lifted her spirit and moral – in this short time.

And though it was only two words, just a short phrase, Susan understood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N – Now we're getting into the thick of things – hope you're enjoying so far.

I hope to have some more chapters up soon, but, as Acacia59601 (one of my favorite C.S. Lewis FanFiction writers) says, "Real Life" tends to sometimes get in the way of frequent updates.

Thanks to Hufflepuffgirl for reviewing; I'm glad you like it!

Fun Fact – I pulled a C.S. Lewis: "Evren" is Turkish for "creation."

Please Read & Review! They are much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry, sorry, sorry it took me so long to update – I've been busy with college apps, and my always raging social life: ) Anyway, this chapter gave me some trouble for some reason, but I like the way it turned out._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything!_

_A/N: This tale is set post-the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

* * *

Peter was in a rotten mood. He stormed from his study, ignoring the surprised splutters from the guards standing outside in the hall. He knew in his heart that he was being stupid, that as a king he should keep himself calm and collected – _controlled_, he told himself. But just thinking about the word did not allay his anger, but simply added to it. _I _am_ controlled, aren't I_, he thought. _Just seventeen years old, and I'm the king of a country! No choice in the matter at all – controlled by the needs and wants of others._

There were many times, in the hassle of the past few weeks, where he had wanted to just wish it all away. Times when he had lost his temper and his nerve, and had wished that he could just live the simple life he had been living before he and his siblings had come here, to Narnia.

But then reality came back, smacking him in the face with realization and guilt. He was the eldest of four siblings, and, as the eldest, it was his responsibility to set a good example for his younger brother and sisters. Lucy and Edmund, certainly, and at times even Susan, might be able to get away with a little temper tantrum, but he was seventeen, and a man, as well as a king. It simply wouldn't do for him to appear immature. And the so-called "simple life" from before? It was nonexistent. War was being raged throughout Europe, and with his father off fighting for Britain, Peter had had to become man of the house, taking on extra responsibilities. Now, however, rations, air raids, and safety precautions seemed miniscule (though no less important) compared to the workload on his plate now.

Peter always overcame these minor lapses in character. It would just take him a while, that was all. A quick, calming walk through the castle gardens would relieve him of his stress. _Maybe I'll even go down to the stables for a while_, he thought.

He took a deep breath and looked around. The hallway he was walking through was bright and airy, decorated with pastel-colored tapestries and paintings, and its ceiling stretched to at least fifty feet above the floor. The pure largeness of the room seemed to alleviate the claustrophobia his spirit had been feeling while cramped inside an office all day. He took another soothing breath and started down a set of stairs that would lead him to the front hall. With each step, he calmed himself. It really wasn't that big a deal, after all – selecting the new members of the Royal Court was an easy task. He should simply trust his heart, as Lucy would tell him. He snorted. The task might have looked simple when he first approached it, but he soon realized, as he began interviewing many of the citizens of Narnia that had assisted him in the fight against the White Witch, that he had been mistaken. Most of the creatures of Narnia did not know how to respond to a free life, as opposed to one living under a tyrant. Many of them were unsuitable for a leadership position – even as a new king, Peter could see that.

He stepped off the final stair of the staircase and looked around. This was not where he had planned to end up – he was in another large hall, but it was not the exit to the gardens. He cursed himself silently, and felt his temper rising again. It was taking the Pevensies a while to understand the ways and culture of Narnia, but when they got lost in their own home, it was a bit more embarrassing.

Peter glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. There seemed to be a large amount of people packed inside a chamber to his right. Peter approached, his curiosity peaked. Inside was a courtroom full of people who seemed to be talking in uproar about something. Oh, of course! He had forgotten – there was some dryad arrested for witchcraft or something of the sort. Peter had delegated the main job of interviewing the girl to one of the newly appointed members of Narnia's Royal Court, and to his younger brother, Edmund (who was no where near old enough to be the judge of a case on his own, but still Peter had wanted to give him the chance to begin learning about things such as this). He knew that he probably should have allowed himself to be wrenched away from his work long enough to hear the trial, but he knew Edmund and Zulum, the new courtier, could handle it. Peter had complete faith in his brother: Aslan had, after all, crowned Edmund with the name of "Just." Surely Aslan knew what Edmund could be greatest at.

All the same, he did wish to at least see what was going on. As the noise level of the room quieted, and everyone took their seats, Peter could finally see to the front of the large room.

Edmund was seated at the head of the room, barely visible as he sat back in his chair. Peter could barely see his kid brother, but could tell by the mere fact that he was sitting that Edmund felt extremely out of place. Zulum, the new courtier and advisor to the Royal Family, was standing beside Edmund, calling out orders and trying to get the remaining protesters to sit down and keep quiet. Zulum was a tall, impressive-looking man, and the audience soon adhered to his wishes. His dark hair and skin betrayed his origins: he was a native to Calormen, the desert province south of Archenland. Peter and his siblings did not know very much of Calormen or of Archenland, but from what Zulum had told him during their interview, he was an exile of his homeland, banished for stirring the oppressed people of Calormen into rebellion against their tyrannical Tisroc. This little fact did not make Zulum a prime candidate for a position on Peter's royal staff, but Zulum's heart-wrenching tales of the cruelty the poor people faced in his home country won Peter over when he realized that this man was an advocate for the people – he did what they needed him to.

Zulum turned around the court, and Peter saw his face harden. His long, black robes and turban, which he always wore as a tribute to his homeland, swirled behind him as he turned to look at the culprit. Zulum's dark, intense eyes were stirring enough to make any witness talk. But then Peter looked past the Narnia civilians, and past his brother and his new advisor, at the dryad who was on trial, and his heart seemed to stop.

She was sitting with her back to the large, opened windows on a tiny wooden chair, wringing her hands in her lap, with her eyes downcast. She bit her lip as Zulum advanced towards her, and Peter had the sudden urge to protect her, to tell Zulum to get out. Peter's heart, he noticed, had recovered from its momentary lapse in function, and was now beating rapidly. The dryad was intriguing, and he wasn't quite sure why. She was beautiful, of course; he had noticed it straight away. But it was more than that. It was the way she appeared, with the sunlight dancing around her back, and the look of fear and worry on her face. She was _real_, much realer than anything he had known from Narnia before. And he suddenly wanted to know her, to listen to her speak, to speak with her, to see her. It was all very confusing for Peter.

He leaned against the enormous stone door-frame, an impressive figure unnoticed by any, and listened as the court proceedings began.

"You are the dryad who was arrested in this first year of High King Peter of Narnia, under suspicion of the practice of witchcraft, the most evil of arts?" Zulum spat at the girl, who seemed to not want to look at him. Instead her eyes combed the room as if looking for someone else. She nodded at his question, however, and opened her mouth to speak. "Yes, sir, I-"

Zulum cut her off. "So you readily admit to having practiced this art. Did you hope to use this magic to harm the great nation of Narnia while she was at her weakest, just having suffered through the reign of a tyrannical _witch_?" He spoke the last word with such venom that the Narnians in the courtroom shuddered. Edmund, who already seemed to be at a loss for what to do, seemed to shrink lower in his seat at the mention of the White Witch.

The dryad looked desperate, obviously not finding the person she needed. "No, sir, not at all – it's not like that. That was never my intention, I only hoped to-"

"This is treason, My Lord," Zulum spoke over the girl's voice, turning instead to Edmund. "This nymph was in the same practice that the evil White Witch Jadis was, and she poses a threat to your newly instituted regime." Zulum threw a contemptuous look at the poor dryad, who was now close to tears – she had been so sure someone would understand, if only she could speak.

Edmund finally spoke, in a small, uncertain voice, different from his usual cockiness. "I don't know, Lord Zulum… You haven't really given her a chance to state her story very much."

This comment was met by laughter from the Narnians. Peter chuckled to himself as he watched his brother squirm.

Zulum hardly reacted to Edmund's comment. Instead, he stepped away from the dryad and said to Edmund in a low, silky voice, "Your Majesty, this could be a potential problem – I urge you, as an advisor, to consider the magnamity of this heinous crime." Zulum seemed to almost sneer as he bent low to Edmund, and Peter unfolded his arms and stood up straight, once again the protective older brother, ready to rush to Edmund's side. Zulum continued in his powerful voice, still kept at a low volume (though by now, it was so quiet in the courtroom that everyone could here what he was saying). "And, I had thought, Your Majesty, given the fact that your particular past with magic has been… questionable… you might look at this crime with a hard eye, which is necessary." Edmund paled at the comment, and shrunk even further into his throne.

"Really, Lord Zulum, that's quite enough." Unknown to Peter until she had spoken, Queen Susan had swept right by him into the courtroom. Every man and Beast in the court jumped to their feet at the arrival of their Lady Queen. The dryad, Peter noticed, had leapt up, a look of relief on her face, and then curtsied towards Susan, who walked to stand beside her.

Zulum straightened himself from Edmund, then faced the Queen and bowed again, a look of surprise on his dark face that he was able to mask fairly quickly. "Your Majesty, it is always a pleasure."

Susan, gracious as always, nodded. "Thank you, My Lord. Please forgive my lateness," she directed toward the people of the court. "I got lost. Again." she added in an undertone to the dryad, smiling. "I'm sorry – can you forgive me?"

"Of course, of course, Your Majesty," the dryad was breathing much easier now, Peter noticed.

Susan walked forward to Edmund, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. There was a time once, when Edmund might have pulled away from her touch, snarling, but now, when he looked so uncertain, and so afraid of his past, he simply looked up at her, all his fears reflected in his face, and she smiled back at him to let him know that he was alright.

Zulum was speaking again. "Your Majesty, we had only just begun. I was just in the middle of questioning the dryad-"

"If you want to call it 'questioning,' " Susan interrupted. "I'd say it's about time this 'dryad,' who believe it or not, Zulum, has a name, stated her case." She looked at him, one of her eyebrows raised.

Zulum looked for a moment as if he had another argument contrary to this point, however, his face relaxed, and he said softly, bowing again, "Oh, of course, Your Majesty…"

Susan walked back to Evren, put her arm around her and gave her a little squeeze, then backed away. "Go, ahead, Evren. Tell them what happened, just the same as you told me the other day."

The dryad stood, and the Narnians in the courtroom seemed to sit up straighter. Peter folded his arms across his chest again and went back to leaning against the doorpost. But this was not Peter's expression of boredom; he was listening intently.

Evren was suddenly aware that this was the moment: she was determining her own future here. Her testimony would decide her innocence or guilt in the eyes of the Narnians. She took a deep breath and stole a glance at Susan, who smiled at her. With a quick prayer for guidance from Aslan, Evren began, in a somewhat shaky voice.

"Please – my name is Evren, and I hail from the Great Southern Forrest, but I've been living in Archenland for the past two years. There I was taking time to learn about the earth and the very gift I've been given; not for foul purposes, though, I swear to that Your Majesty!" she looked at Edmund pleadingly, with respect, and not as a teenage girl to an adolescent boy. "The only reason that my people sent me to Archenland to further my powers was so that I might one day be able to return and…" Evren faltered. What had she been thinking? Her story did sound as if she was perfectly poised to lay siege against Narnia and try and depose its rulers!

"Go on." Zulum looked skeptical. Evren looked at King Edmund, and the expression in the boy-king's face showed that he wanted to hear the rest of her story too. But Evren never had been the most eloquent of nymphs. She had no idea what to say. She glanced around at the faces of the Beasts in the court, feeling as if she were in some strange dream. Everything seemed to be moving quickly around her, even her own head turning seemed too fast, but her mind seemed to be slowing down, if anything. _Aslan, help me think of the right thing to say!_ she thought desperately.

And then she caught the eye of a young man standing in the back of the room, evidently not wanting to enter and intrude. And Evren froze.

The boy was handsome – she would even venture at saying gorgeous. He held himself with a presence, even though he was poised casually, that would fit a king. And there was something reflected in his face – he was _listening_. Really, truly listening to what was going on, and learning about it all. Suddenly, the words came rushing back to Evren.

"…I could one day return and assist in the downfall of the White Witch!" Evren tore her gaze away from the boy in the back of the room and looked around at Zulum, a new steadiness in her voice that not even Evren had heard come from her mouth before. The crowd gasped at the revelation.

Zulum blanched, his dark eyes narrowed. "You have this potential power?"

"My powers are not developed, My Lord," Evren responded. "I have much left to learn, and I'm sure there is much to know about nature that I might never learn. I am a Narnian!" she declared to the crowd. "Narnia is my home; I would never hurt its people. I wish only to help."

Zulum, however, seemed to have found what he wanted. "But, you see Your Majesty," he said excitedly, rounding on Edmund, "That this girl is a threat! She seems to want no part of an organized government! She-"

"Lord Zulum!" Susan cut in, her pale face flushing red with annoyance. "I don't believe you have been listening to one word of what Evren has said! She clearly stated-"

"Enough!" It was Edmund, speaking up at last. He seemed weary of the arguing going on in front of him. He stood up. He was taller than he had originally seemed sitting down, Evren noticed.

Peter, even from his spot in the back, noticed something different about his younger brother as well (though it was not his height, Peter knew perfectly well how tall Edmund was). There was a certain resignation in his stance, a certain sense of nobility. And Peter could tell, just from the inflection in Edmund's voice and the way he stood up, that he was going to make the right decision, no matter what it was. Peter knew that Edmund had learned from his poor choices earlier in life, and that he would evaluate everything carefully, and would let his head and heart work together to pass judgment on Evren, instead of the head overpowering the heart, or vice versa.

Edmund looked at the dryad. She lowered her eyes in respect, but then glanced back up at him quickly. Nothing in her small frame betrayed any inclination towards violence. And Edmund knew, as he thought about her tale and the way she acted, that she was innocent of any suspicious intentions. He turned to his elder sister and the advisor.

"I believe her," he said simply.

"But my Lord -" Zulum spluttered as Susan broke into a smile and ran to embrace Evren, who looked quite shocked, albeit happy.

"Lord Zulum, I appreciate your dedication and foresight in this matter," Edmund continued, surprising himself with his own eloquence. "But I truly feel that her story is true. The White Witch's reign was detrimental to the dryads, of course she would be opposed. But my royal brother and sisters and I hope to rule in a way that makes all Narnians happy and at peace. I think Evren will find that here. She won't be unhappy. Furthermore," he said, looking towards Susan and Evren, "she has the trust and friendship of my sister, and that is good enough for me."

Susan beamed at Edmund, tears sparkling in her eyes. Edmund was back with them, and his trust in her was the most important thing in the world to Susan.

Evren smiled shakily. Edmund gave her a reassuring nod and a bit of a grin before turning to the crowd of Narnians assembled, all of whom looked somewhat unsure. Edmund spoke: "I plead with you, loyal followers of the Lion. Open your hearts. You have had to harden them during this horrible winter, and I'm sorry for that. But today is a new day, and if we can be forgiving and accepting, we can rebuild Narnia." It was Edmund's plea for them to be kind to Evren, but it was important for Edmund himself too. If the people of Narnia could forgive the dryad, they could forgive him for his past treachery against them.

The Narnians looked around at each other, knowing they were all in good hands. A cheer went up for King Edmund the Just.

Edmund turned to Evren, speaking loudly so the entire hall could hear: "You're free to go Evren. I'm sorry this had to come about. I hope we'll see more of you?"

Evren smiled weakly. "I'd like that, Your Majesty. Thank you so much-"

Edmund shook his head, now speaking to just the two girls. "It's not needed. I just passed judgment; you won this case on your own. But I think you need some food and a place to rest," he added, noting her weary appearance. "The least we can do after arresting you is offer you some good hospitality."

Susan was sure she would have to talk to her brother later. She was so proud of the way he'd grown up. For now, though, she needed to be a hostess, and Evren needed her attention.

"Come with me, Evren," she said softly to her friend as the hall slowly emptied, its occupants chatting about the trial and how well King Edmund had done, and how the dryad _did_ seem like a nice girl. "We'll get you rested and fed." Susan took Evren's hand and led her out of the hall through a back door, guiding the young girl, who still appeared to be dazed.

Edmund watched them leave, then turned to Zulum. "I appreciated your help, Zulum. I really don't think I could have run this case on my own. Thank you." The young boy grinned at the man, who hesitated, but then smiled weakly back.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I live to serve you and your Royal Family, and the Lion Himself. But Your Majesty, you are sure...?" Zulum trailed off, looking after where Susan and Evren had exited.

"Quite sure." said Edmund firmly. "However, if you'd like to meet with her I'm sure that can be arranged. We'll keep an eye on her of course, but I think she'll be fine." Edmund suddenly reddened, aware of how adult he sounded, or was trying to sound. "I'll get going, then…" he mumbled, gathering his papers from his chair and walking towards the door, leaving Zulum alone in the courtroom to stare after the boy king.

"Ed." It was Peter. Edmund had not even noticed him in the back of the courtroom during the procedure, and he had nearly walked right past him in his hurry to leave. Now he looked up at his brother to find an expression there he rarely saw: pride.

"You did brilliantly, Ed." Peter's voice was low; Edmund could tell he was striving not to be mushy. "I knew I could trust you with this."

"Thanks," Edmund mumbled modestly, then grinned at his brother. They embraced, briefly, then continued on down the hallway. Peter's arm was around his younger brother's shoulders, a feat that, months ago, would have been inconceivable, but today, was natural, as the Pevensie men avidly discussed Edmund's finer moments in the trial.

Peter's rotten mood had gone away, and for now, he was simply happy to be in the company of his brother.

* * *

_Bit longer than my other chapters. Here's the thing: was it long enough?_

_Thanks to bookworm and SnowFairy for reviewing!_

_Please read and review! I hope to have more out soon._


	5. Chapter 5

_Again… sorry for the length of time between updates. Hopefully I'll get a new chapter out soon (yeah, that's what they all say)._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything! Literally. It's quite sad…_

_A/N: This tale is set post-the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

* * *

Most of the many rooms and corridors of Cair Paravel were brightly lit, whether by natural light or the light cast from the chandeliers. The castle had been uninhabited for over one hundred years, and it was taking time to air out all the rooms and fix up the castle's disheveled appearance. Things were moving along smoothly, however. Under the guidance and direction of the Queens Susan and Lucy and Master Tumnus, the castle was beginning to show its old elegance and beauty.

However, one tower of the castle had not been touched since the Cair had been reopened. It remained dark and sparsely decorated, the only remains being the ruins of old draperies and tapestries on the walls. The dirty stairs leading to the large tower room were poorly lit by wall-torches that hung limply in their brackets. And it was up these stairs that Lord Zulum climbed, silently fuming.

The door of his room burst open as the tall Calormene stalked in. He paced for a moment in front of his desk, then stopped and put his hands on the hard wood and looked at the maps and papers that still waited on his desk where he had left them.

"Who knew the little brat could be so persuasive? He's won half of Narnia to his side now!" Zulum spoke aloud to himself. He turned around to look at his room. He kept it very simple, preferring the maids to not come in and clean up after him. That could lead to awkward questions concerning what was contained in the room.

There was a small mattress in the corner. A floor-length, fairly dingy mirror leaned against the wall in the corner. The desk he was still leaning on was covered in papers: maps of Narnia and more detailed maps of Cair Paravel itself. Bits of parchment and paper lay scattered about the rooms, drafts of letters and speeches and diagrams full of troop placements and plans. The wall space was taken up by bookcases filled with heavy, dusty volumes. An old, midnight-blue tapestry hung behind the desk, and its twin, above the mattress. The overall effect of the room was not quite filthy, but simple and dark.

It would have appeared that Zulum was perfectly fine and composed, but in an act of rage that seemed to come out of nowhere, he swept the papers of his desk with a roar and tore the tapestry down from its hangings. When the random fit seemed to have left him, he resumed his position of placing his hands on the desk. He was quiet for a moment, thinking.

The plan needed work, he realized. There must be something he could do to make them bend to his every will. At this point, they respected him; did not yet trust him. Especially the littlest one – Lucy. She didn't seem to like him at all, but rarely spoke to him, or wanted to be in the same room as he. But that was no matter. It was Peter that had appointed Zulum, and it was Peter's word that was final.

And there it was that Zulum realized he may have found the perfect way to tear the little family apart: the chain of command. Peter was High King, and the others seemed to have no problem trusting in him and following him, but what if… What if the seed of discord was planted among siblings? Edmund, in particular, Zulum reasoned, liked his fair share of power – the boy had, after all, betrayed his siblings to the White Witch for material pleasures…

A shout from outside directed his attention to the window. Zulum stalked over to the window, his thoughts still forming a tangible plan of action as he looked out at the sunny day, and to the grounds of Cair Paravel below. He was high up, but he could still make out High King Peter and King Edmund making their way over to the stables. Waiting at a paddock outside the stable, standing with a horse was Queen Lucy. She called her brothers over to her, and they chatted. Zulum could see they were laughing about something. They were a close bunch, and what he was thinking of would be difficult, but not impossible.

He thought of what he had learned of the four. "Susan will not be bossed around." He said aloud. He thought of the headstrong queen. She was close to her siblings, and seemed to like to play around as much as any of them, but she was different as well. She was almost a mother figure to them. She took care of them. And after Zulum's agenda against the dryad today in court, she would most likely be annoyed with him, at least for a while.

Peter was similar to Susan, if a bit more relaxed at times. He was a strong man, and had so far proved to be a good king to his people. But lately, he had seemed weary – the job of king and the stresses that accompanied it were beginning to take a toll on him. "He loves Narnia," mused Zulum, "But his heart belongs to his siblings as well. He would do anything for them."

Edmund was something else. Zulum thought that the boy who had supported the Witch and the boy who was king of Narnia now must be two different people. The Edmund he had come to know was quiet, and devoted to his siblings. There was a degree of uncertainty, however… Zulum couldn't quite name it. "Perhaps he still believes that they do not trust him. Perhaps he thinks they may not completely forgive him."

And then there was Lucy. There was a certain fire and purity in her that anyone could see. She adored her elder brothers and sister, and kept the family happy. She was also closest to Aslan, who hadn't been seen since the coronation. In Calormen, Aslan had been talked of as just a myth of the Northern Barbarians. But after his exile, Zulum had come to learn that every single one of the Narnians who had fought in the Battle against the witch, and those who had been present at the Pevensies' coronation, had witnessed the "Great Lion." Zulum had yet to encounter the beast, but in the face of so much faith and so many eyewitnesses, he could not suppress the feeling that the cat was real. And with Lucy so close to this beast, he was not sure she would listen to anything Zulum had to say.

"But they are still so young…" Zulum still watched the three siblings, as Lucy screamed with laughter and ran from her brothers. Peter took up the chase, and Edmund soon after. Rulers they might be, but they were children as well.

Having a rough sort of scheme mapped out in his head, Zulum turned from the window. Edmund, perhaps. Yes…

Zulum certainly knew the ways of a power-hungry teenage boy. From an early age, he had been raised in the royal courts in Tashbaan, a place rife with thievery, lies, and backstabbing. Every boy born into nobility was ushered into a position of authority, and as he grew, he was expected to rise through the ranks. It was a constant race for power in the court of the Tisroc, and no means of underhanded tactics were unused by the Calormenes. The trick was not to get caught – especially if your underhanded schemes included plans of assassinating the Tisroc himself.

The Calormene frowned at the memory of his exile, his eyes darkening. He had made a mistake in trusting his ideas to those whom he had hoped would help him. But he had learned from the mistake that ruined his life – it would never happen again. Not this time. He was older and more experienced now, and these Narnian fools were naïve and innocent; they would never see it coming until it hit them. And once Zulum had power over the kings and queens, he would have power over Narnia. Then, he could turn his sights back on Calormen. Zulum smiled. His plan would be put forth then: drive a wedge between the Pevensies. And he knew just how to do it.

Zulum heard a rustling and squeaking sound from somewhere around his feet. He looked down: a tiny white mouse had found its way into the tower room again. He spared it one disdainful look before crushing it beneath his boot.

* * *

_A bit of evilness for this chapter, eh? Hopefully it gives you a bit of insight to our antagonist here._

_Please R&R! Thanks to the reviewers, especially Snow Fairy for favoriting the story!_


End file.
